


old habits

by orphan_account



Category: Everyman HYBRID
Genre: Angst, Gen, Self-Harm, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 04:55:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11798847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: vinny doesn't want to help that monster anymore, & he's willing to do anything to make things right. even if that means doing something drastic. something he never thought he'd let himself do again.





	old habits

          it's been a long time since vincent tried to hurt himself.

          scars heal over time, but they never fade completely, & there's still a fine network of marks on his forearms from a time that feels like a lifetime ago. once he'd started dating evan & jeff, he'd felt... better, about things. his self-image had still been negative, he still had panic attacks all the time, he was still stressed out over every little thing & he'd still taken a little too much aspirin on a regular basis, but at least he had stopped feeling the need to inflict any wounds on his own skin. (when he did, someone was always there to help him out, even if he never told anyone what he really felt compelled to do. neither of his boyfriends had known the lengths that he had once gone to.)

          things had been okay, & they had been happy. those times had been so good, & he misses them so, so much. there's nothing left but memories now, though. memories & ghosts. because jeff is dead, evan is hardly anything more than a vessel, & all he does anymore is follow orders. he's like habit's dog. he knows that ev must feel guilty, about all of this death & destruction, but at least he wasn't in control. anyone would have been powerless to stop the entity from doing what he pleased, taking over an entire body, manipulating everything. vincent, on the other hand, has to live on knowing he's made conscious decisions that ultimately ended people's lives. all on his own volition. all it took was a couple threats, a little beating here & there, & he was the perfect partner for habit's needs. which is terrible, of course. he's terrible & he makes himself absolutely sick. vince can hardly even look in mirrors anymore, & when habit finally leaves him alone, in the few moments when things are still & calm, he typically curls up somewhere dark & he cries. it's so pathetic. he knows that, a knowledge that doesn't make things feel any better at all. a sense of weakness that makes everything that much worse.

          he's alone now, alone in the house that jeff died in & shaun died in & mark died in & how many others could have possibly fallen in this damned place without his knowledge? how many bodies were there? whose house was this? why did this have to happen to them? there isn't a day that goes by now that he doesn't ask himself these questions, doesn't ask himself why he didn't try harder, why he didn't work to fix things while he still had a chance. today is different, though. today, he plans on doing more than wallow in his own guilt & whine to himself about how terrible he is. there are so many knives, just - around. waiting for a chance to be used. & although vinny would never try to attack habit, because that wouldn't get him anywhere but seriously hurt or killed in a brutal way, he's more than ready to use it on someone else. someone like himself.

          the cuts had always been horizontal, from one side of his forearm to the other. now, it's time for something new, something that would contrast with the dull reminders already engraved in his pale skin. he'll start at his wrist & go to his forearm & he'll keep going until he can't move, until he bleeds out & he dies like he deserves. it's something he's wanted to do for a while & something he hardly has a reason to fight - but, still, as he sits in the corner of a dimly lit room, so silent that his ears ring, he cries. vince manages to keep his sobs stifled, barely audible, & yet, he can't prevent those tears. they're hot & constant & they roll down his cheeks, making streaks down his face in their wake. it's dumb. he's so dumb. he's an idiot & a coward, too weak to let himself end his own life with a little dignity. no, he's going to go down crying. at least he's doing it of his own accord, at least no one else has to do it for him, at least no one's going to miss him when he's gone. there's no one left who could possibly miss him when he's gone.

          despite being the dominate one, his right hand is shaking violently as he lifts it, sharpened blade ready to tear at any flesh it faces. for one, final moment, he stares at the clean skin on his left forearm, hardly able to make it out clearly in the dark with tears blurring his vision. & then, he plunges the knife into his skin, as deep as he can without getting it too far to cut. the man cries out, in pain & in sadness, but no one hears him & no one can stop him & he keeps going. he isn't sure if he can actually hear his skin tearing, or if that's just something he's imagining, but it's just as frightening either way. this doesn't feel like it used to. he doesn't feel any better right now. it's just a whole new level of pain, to add on to how much suffering he was already doing. no emptiness, no vent for his hurting. it's just a burning, stinging feeling, deep & piercing in his arm & in his mind. vinny has to grit his teeth together to keep going, low groans wrenching their way out of his throat as he does. he's not going to stop, though. he's already started, & he's no coward, & he won't let himself quit now. as soon as he's finished the first mark, he moves on to the next, a ragged twin as close to the first as he can possibly make it.

          & vincent has to remind himself that he deserves it. he deserves to feel every bit of pain as the blood & the life slowly drain from his body. as much as he'd like it to end, a quick, painless, clean death is just too good for him. in fact, he would've let habit torture him if he didn't think that would hurt evan if he ever came back again. (even now, of course, all he really cares about is what someone else feels, what someone else needs. he's always been like that. pushing others on instead of caring for himself.) thoughts & feelings rush through him, none of them remotely good, as he hisses & squeezes his eyes shut & he drives that cold metal into his own skin. it goes on & on, & it hurts, it hurts, it hurts. & then, it stops. it stops because he's losing so much blood, because he can't stay awake anymore. for a moment, vinny feels at peace. like everything is finally going to be right, like it's going to be okay.

          then, he thinks about evan. he thinks about evan & what he'll think when he finds the self-mutilated corpse of the last person he loved, the last person he had left. the person who wasn't strong enough to stay around, to help, to be there. he convulses & fights, fights for a life that he took from himself. it doesn't work, of course. he had made sure it wouldn't.

          guilt is the last emotion vincent feels.


End file.
